Getting To Know You
by Kara's Aunty
Summary: Jake and Rosalie 'bond' in their own unique way at the Cullens' residence a few days before the Volturi arrive - and things soon spiral out of control...
1. Barbs with Barbie

**Disclaimer: **The Twilight series belongs to Stephenie Meyer, etc, etc. I am making no profit from this rather pathetic attempt to dabble in her world.

*****Please review, folks! It is the _only_ reward I get!*****

_Summary: Jake and Rosalie 'bond' (in their own unique way) at the Cullens' residence a few days before the Volturi arrive - and things soon spiral out of control…_

**Getting To Know You**

**Chapter 1: Barbs with Barbie**

* * *

Jacob Black lounged by the piano in the Cullens' living room trying not to glare at the ever-increasing crowd of bloodsuckers in the house. He understood the necessity of their presence, but that didn't mean he had to _like_ it. It wasn't in a werewolf's nature to stand casually by and allow the vampire population of Forks to explode so exponentially without intervening. Unfortunately for him, Renesmee's very existence depended on their willingness to travel from every corner of the world and act as witnesses on her behalf if - _when_ - the Volturi arrived. So he found himself with no other option than to stand helplessly by and simply watch as they loitered around in groups of twos and threes, talking quietly amongst themselves as if they were doing nothing more sinister than discussing the latest Hollywood blockbuster.

But the sight of so many pale-faced, red-eyed leeches made his skin crawl. It took a great deal of self-control not to phase into his wolf form and simply launch himself at the nearest vein-drainer. With a heavy sigh, he mastered the impulse (for the moment) because a) the noise might upset the still-slumbering Nessie, b) he might scratch Esme's pretty cream carpets to shreds with his claws (which he would regret because, for a vampire, Esme was pretty cool) and…oh, alright then, c) he was currently outnumbered.

Damn it!

He felt eyes upon his face and he cocked his head to the right. One of Carlisle's pale nomad 'guests' was hovering by the staircase, watching him. The leech's left eyebrow was arched in mild interest as Bella, cradling her sleeping daughter, spoke with him. The visitor nodded once in apparent understanding, then dismissed him with a final (but thorough) sweep of his crimson orbs before returning to his mate.

_Jerk._

"They think you're our pet," said a familiar (and annoyingly smug) voice behind him. Jacob stiffened slightly in offense, then relaxed.

"Drop dead, Blondie," he drawled. He turned his dark eyes on the female vampire and smirked. "Oh, that's right; you're already dead, aren't you?"

Rosalie took her place next to the brawny teenager (irritating the hell out of him) and offered him a dazzling smile (which made him want to punch her. Normally, he would never dream of lifting his hands in anger against a girl, but Blondie brought out the beast in him - _literally_).

"That's a matter of opinion," she said (still smugly).

Puh-lease!

"Sure it is. A matter of _my_ opinion. Therefore, you're dead."

He grinned when she narrowed her creepy amber eyes.

"Don't you have a bone to fetch or something, _dog_?" she snapped.

"Nope. I'm full," he replied, ignoring the jibe to cockily pat his stomach. "Esme made some linguini and - I gotta say - for a bloodsucker, she's pretty good with pasta. What about you? Must be at least three days since you popped out for a bite. You gotta be hungry."

"Why, aren't you sweet? I had no idea you were so concerned for my welfare," cooed Rosalie sarcastically. "Or are you just anxious to be rid of me?"

Definitely the latter. But he'd never admit it in case she stayed longer just to annoy him (which she absolutely _would_).

He smiled as politely as he could (bared his teeth without ripping her throat out) and shook his head. "Not me. You know how much I enjoy our little chats..."

About as much as he enjoyed inhaling her cloying stench.

"...I just don't like the idea of hauling your scrawny butt off the carpet when you faint from malnutrition."

"Vampires don't _faint_."

"Oh, really? Tell that to your old friend, Laurent. He almost dropped in fright the first time he saw me in wolf form."

"That's because you make an even uglier mutt than you do a human. Not that I would've thought that possible, before I saw it for myself."

"You're no prize either, Blondie. Have you looked in the mirror lately? Oh, man. Listen to me," he said, slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand, "asking a blonde if she's looked in a mirror. Of course you have. It's probably welded to your hand..."

The gorgeous leech scowled.

"...but anyway, you should take another peek at it. 'Cos compared to all your new friends, you look like a beauty pageant reject. Got some pretty stiff competition right here in this room."

Jacob paused, struck by his own remark, then threw back his head and laughed heartily.

"Stiff competition!" he gasped, greatly amused. "_Stiff_ competition, get it?"

The blonde glowered at him, refusing to dignify his question with a response.

"What? You don't think that's funny? We're in a roomful of animated corpses, and you don't get the joke?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "You're the joke, if you think that's funny."

"Aw, c'mon. Get an afterlife. Don't leeches have a sense of humor? Or were you this miserable in real life, too?"

"You know, if it wasn't for Renesmee, I would've had you euthanized weeks ago, mutt."

Jacob snickered. "Always with the dog jokes, Blondie. Doesn't your imagination stretch any further than that? Well, hey. There's the answer right there! 'Blonde' and 'imagination' aren't two words I'd normally associate with each other, so, no: it probably doesn't."

"Your repertoire of wisecracks isn't exactly impressive, either. Or hadn't you noticed you only ever address me as 'Blondie' or 'leech'? Hardly original."

He offered her another flash of his even white teeth. "Not true. Sometimes I call you 'bloodsucker', sometimes 'bimbo'. Heck, when Bella was still pregnant with Nessie, I even called you 'womb-raider', 'cos you were so damned eager to snatch the kid and run. But I don't think you noticed that. So much for superior vampire hearing."

If Rosalie had possessed the ability to flush, he knew she would be scarlet with rage round about now. As it was, she pulled back her lips and hissed at him.

"You wanna kill me right now, don't you?" he chirped, casually drumming his fingers against the edge of the piano while he surveyed the room's other occupants. Siobhan and her clan had left a few minutes ago to hunt (well away from Forks - something the Cullens, as well as he - had insisted all the new arrivals do). Stefan and Vladimir were stagnating by the window, plotting their strategy for the upcoming confrontation, no doubt. Kate and Co. were clustered around Edward, Bella and Nessie (completely blocking his view of the little girl, damn them). Amun was probably still skulking in the forest somewhere with his submissive mate, but that didn't bother Jacob too much. Sam and the pack would keep an eye on them. As for the rest, they were scattered throughout the house, discussing the Volturi's possible agenda or, in Carlisle and Esme's case, cooking up a storm in the kitchen to feed the patrolling wolf pack.

"You have no idea how much," Rosalie hissed.

Jacob waved a hand in front of his face in distaste as her pungently sweet breath floated up his nostrils.

"Wow, you _really_ need a tic tac, Blondie. You're gonna knock someone out cold with that death breath of yours."

"I'd like to knock _you _out cold, Fido. With my bare fist."

She clenched a lily-white hand and lifted it, then, catching the shake of Emmett's head, let it drop heavily to her side.

"Now, _that's_ funny! Battlefield Barbie imagining I'd give her the chance to land a punch on me. In your dreams, Blondie. Oh, that's right: you don't dream either, do you? Wow, afterlife really sucks!"

He chortled again. "Sucks. Get it?"

Rosalie fumed, then fumed even more when Emmett's deep chuckles reached their ears.

"Now, now children. Play nicely," trilled Esme as she floated past with a pot roast (still in its earthenware container) heading for the forest (Sam, as tolerant of the Cullens as he once again was, still refused to set foot inside the house when so many foreign leeches 'polluted' the place). "We're all friends here."

_Friends. _Yeah, sure they were. And Elvis was upstairs taking an afternoon nap.

Still...

"You hear that? Esme says we're friends. That means you gotta be nice to me. And _that_ means you gotta keep your dainty little fists to yourself, before I snap them off and shove them down your throat. I'd hate to have to upset the lady of the house, after all. Especially when she's been feeding me so well."

To his surprise, Rosalie laughed. "You really are delusional, aren't you? Snap my wrists off? In _your_ dreams, wolf-boy. I was strong enough to rip a man apart when your grandfather was still playing with his train set. And if you think that a fifteen-year-old _cub_ presents any sort of challenge to me, you're even crazier than I thought."

It wasn't the allusion to his sanity that annoyed the teenager, it was the jibe about his youth.

"Oh, yeah?" he growled, rounding on her and glaring at her smirking face. "Is that supposed to impress me? 'Cos it doesn't. For one thing, I'm no _cub_. I'm a pack leader. And another thing? I'm seventeen, not fifteen. And, just for the record, my grandfather never had a train set."

"That's right. He probably had a wooden club. That _is_ what savages play with, isn't it? Obviously, he hit you with it a couple times in later life. You must have been such a disappointment to him."

"Get lost, Bloodsucker Barbie."

Rosalie smiled sweetly. "This is _my_ house. _You_ get lost."

She had a point. It _was_ her house.

Irritated, he turned from her and leaned his elbows back on the piano.

"What, giving up so easily? I'm surprised at you, wolf-cub. I thought you had more fight in you than that."

"Who said anything about giving up?" he enquired smoothly. "I just don't wanna pass out when you breathe in my direction again. You do know that your breath smells like a rotting rosebush? It's never too late for that tic tac, you know."

"It's never too late for me to rip your head off and shove it up your..."

"Rosalie! Don't you dare finish that sentence!" warned Esme as she floated (empty-handed) back towards the kitchen.

"Thanks, Esme," said Jacob innocently. "She was really starting to scare me, there."

Esme rolled her eyes in disbelief before leaving them with a final 'behave' and making her way back to the kitchen.

Jacob smirked. "You know, I think she likes me. In fact, I think your whole family kinda likes me. Must be my animal magnetism. Jacob Black, irresistible to women and vampires everywhere."

"Except Bella, of course," corrected Rosalie. "She resisted you without too much effort."

A frown crossed his russet face. "There was a _lot_ of effort involved in that, Psycho. But that's ancient history. A murky memory in the distant past."

"A distant past of about four months, Muttley. But then, I'm not surprised your miniscule mind doesn't stretch that far back. For one thing, it's more convenient for you to forget how pathetic you looked chasing after her like a lovesick puppy, and, for another, your canine brain probably doesn't have the capacity to lay down long-term memory."

"_Lupine_, Blondie. Wolves are lupines, not canines. And if I only had two brain cells to my name, I'd still have one hundred percent more than you on your best day."

Another booming laugh filled the room, catching the attention of all its occupants (alive and undead). Jacob smirked at Rosalie's expression when she scowled at the culprit.

"Aw, c'mon babe. Where's your sense of humor?" snickered Emmett.

"I've been asking her that same question for the past five minutes," sighed Jacob (rather dramatically). "But, honestly? I don't think she has one."

He leaned as close to his snarling opponent as his abused nostrils would allow.

"Probably never had, right Blondie?"

"Drop dead."

"After you."

"According to you, I _am_ dead," Rosalie crowed victoriously (looking ready to pounce).

"According to you, you're_ not_," Jacob replied nonchalantly (wiping the smile off her unnaturally perfect face).

"Will you two cut it _out!_" exclaimed a silvery voice. The verbal sparring partners both snapped around to see Bella approaching with a frown marring her lovely features. Renesmee had roused and was watching them curiously. "I was about to ask you if you would watch Renesmee while Edward and I hunt, Jake, but if you're going to act like a child..."

The brunette left the threat hanging in the air and Jacob straightened immediately.

"Uh, sorry, Bella. Sure, I'll watch Nessie..."

Bella glowered.

"Er, Renesmee. C'mere sweetie. Come to Uncle Jake."

Rosalie made an unmistakable gagging noise and he twisted his head to glare at her.

"_I'll_ watch her for you, Bella," said the blonde, reaching out for the half-immortal child.

"Get lost, womb-raider. She asked _me_ to watch her. Why don't you go out and find yourself a nice snack, huh? I believe there's an anthill two miles due east. That should satisfy your hunger."

Rosalie whipped round at breath-taking speed and snarled at him. "If you call me that just one more time, Fido, I swear your lips will be having a nice long chat with your own intestines."

"Why, Blondie. Did you just threaten to shove my head up my own butt? And in front of a kid, no less! You oughta be ashamed of yourself," he chided, nimbly side-stepping the seething vampire to pluck a giggling Nessie from her (glaring) mother's arms. He settled the child against his chest and she snuggled in, tucking her head under his chin and plucking idly at his shirt pocket.

"That's right, wolf-boy. Hide behind a baby. What a hero."

"Not hiding, Psycho Barbie," he stated in a sing-song voice that delighted Nessie (and had the added benefit of riling the fuming blonde further). "I'm right here in plain sight."

Jacob dropped a kiss on the giggling child's bronze curls, then waggled his eyebrows at Rosalie. He smiled in satisfaction when she growled again.

It was enough to make Bella snap.

"That's it! Unless you two can start acting your respective ages, Renesmee's off limits. To _both _of you!""

Bella snatched the protesting child from an astonished Jacob's arms and held her close.

"It's okay, sweetie. You can stay with Uncle Emmett instead," she crooned. "He'll take good care of you."

And with that, she waltzed off and handed her daughter over to Emmett (who beamed) before leaving the house with a gooey-eyed Edward.

"Just when I thought this day couldn't get any better," the burly vampire declared, grinning broadly as he tossed Renesmee up in the air and caught her over and over again. The little girl's shrieks of delight made everyone in the room smile - apart from Jacob and Rosalie.

"Now look what you did," he exclaimed, whirling on the pale beauty angrily.

"What _I_ did? You started it, Muttley," she replied in disgust.

"Oh, yeah? I was just hanging out here - alone - minding my own business when you strolled on over to spread the misery," he accused, too angry to remain rational (or polite).

"I'd like to spread your limbs all over the house!" she snapped.

"Oh, _please_. Are you flirting with me? And with your boyfriend in the same room? Talk about weird. You are so not my type!"

Rosalie looked as if she might vomit. "Flirting with _you_? I'd rather flirt with disaster. And he's not my _boyfriend_, he's my _husband..._"

"He has my condolences," offered Jacob with a sympathetic glance at (the still highly-amused, Nessie-coddling) Emmett.

"...and I do _not_ spread misery..."

"Sure you do. Like a disease."

"...as for being your 'type'," continued Rosalie in an icy voice, "only a real..."

"Careful with your next words, Blondie," interrupted Jacob (again). "Nessie's real fond of her Uncle Jake. You don't want to upset her, do you?"

To his great amusement, she actually stopped, glanced at her niece, then swallowed the rest of her (no doubt) scathing comment. With a deep breath, she got a grip on her temper and spared the watching onlookers a shaky smile before returning her gaze to him.

"Look, dog, I don't like you," she said in a stilted, but otherwise (falsely) pleasant voice. "In fact, the sight and smell of you turns my stomach. If you fell off the face of the earth tomorrow and were never heard from again, I wouldn't even bat an eyelid. But that's not the sort of luck I usually enjoy, so, for the sake of Renesmee, let's try to behave with a modicum of civility when we're in the same room, okay? Otherwise, it will be a whole decade before Bella let's us anywhere near her again."

True. Bella was nothing, if not stubborn. As much as he hated to admit it, Psycho Barbie had a point.

And he _had_ behaved like a bit of a junior jackass.

Taking a deep breath (but not _too_ deep, in case her cloying breath knocked him for six), he gritted his teeth and nodded.

"Okay. Sure. I hate your stone guts, too, but I'll try to be polite - for Nessie's sake."

"Fine. And now you can apologize."

Apologize? Was she kidding?

"Oh, really? What the hell for?"

"For calling me miserable."

"You _are_ miserable. You should apologize for _that_."

Rosalie took a dangerous step forward and he tensed, ready to phase in a split-second.

"I am _not _miserable."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed. "You're a regular barrel of laughs, aren't you?"

"Just because you're so damned chirpy all the time, doesn't mean we all have to be," she said, eyes flashing. "Someone has to act like a responsible adult, after all."

"Oh, yeah, because pledging a truce one minute and getting ready to rip my head off the next is _really_ responsible!"

"No Jacob. I won't rip your head off. Though I might rip your tongue out. That's a fair compromise."

His hackles rose and the pair started circling each other. Kate and Co. abandoned their discussion of Aro's upcoming trip and wandered over to get a better view of the verbal (and potentially physical) fisticuffs.

"How about I rip _your_ tongue out and wrap it round your neck, Blondie? Tie it in a nice, neat bow under your chin, so you look real pretty when you gasp your last."

"You're an ass, Muttley."

"You're my wipe, womb-raider."

Rosalie snapped. With a snarl, she launched herself...

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_Author's Note_: Okay, so their behaviour might be a _bit_ OTT, given that there's a child in the room and the threat of the Volturi hangs over their heads.

Then again, they may just be releasing some pent-up frustrations, given the pressure they're under.

In any event, it's all in good fun, so take it with a pinch of salt.

As a Scot, I've had to take a wild stab at imagining the nuances of American vernacular (and spelling), so if it's wildly off, I apologise.

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this (short) story.

Kara's Aunty :)


	2. Let battle commence

**Disclaimer: **The Twilight series belongs to Stephenie Meyer, etc, etc. I am making no profit from this rather pathetic attempt to dabble in her world.

***Please review, folks! It is the **_**only**_** reward I get!***

**Chapter 2**

The only thing quicker than Rosalie's leap over the piano, was Jacob's sidestep: the beautiful (but furious) vampire sailed past the youth and crashed into Stefan and Vladimir, interrupting their whispered plans of vengeance against the hated Volturi.

"Whoa, Blondie," drawled the teenager in amusement as she extricated herself from amidst the ancient duo (and the shattered window) and whirled on him with flashing amber eyes. "No need to get your panties in a twist."

"The only thing I'll be twisting around here," growled Rosalie, readying herself for another spring, "is your stupid, stinking, scrawny, flea-infested neck!"

"Auntie Rose and Uncle Jake playing Catch, Uncle Emmett," trilled Renesmee happily, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down on Emmett's knees. "I wanna play, too!"

Jacob flashed her a dazzling smile. "You can play in a minute or two, Nessie," he announced cheerily. "After I beat your aunt. Senseless."

Emmett roared with laughter, earning himself a poisonous glare from his wife.

"You couldn't beat so much as an egg, Muttley," hissed Rosalie as Stefan and Vladimir picked themselves back off the floor, brushed glass from their clothing, smoothed down their tangled locks, and attempted (fruitlessly) to regain their usual air of chilling refinement after Rosalie's unexpected assault.

"I could whip you with one hand tied behind my back, Blondie - heck, with two hands behind it," said Jacob cockily. "Might be a good idea if we take this …" He threw Renesmee a sidelong glance, "… 'game' outside. Just in case you wreck anything else with your clumsy efforts to, uh, 'catch' me, you know? Wouldn't wanna smash Deadward's piano."

The (rather uncharitable) dig at her brother (old rivalries died hard) riled Rosalie even further (as he had known it would), and Jacob was too busy congratulating himself on his clever manipulation of the sort-of-dead Edward's name to move out of the way fast enough.

"_Edward!_ His name is Edward, you moron!" she screeched, flying across the room and tackling him to the ground before he realised the danger. They rolled across the living room in a tangle of limbs, crashing through the coffee table before thudding into the sofa. Kate & Co sprang out of the way (though not far enough to miss the fun) as they came to a bumpy stop. Victorious, Rosalie leered at the struggling teenager pinned beneath her.

Jacob, furious at himself, struggled to loosen her death grip on his neck. He rammed a hand up into her chin and Rosalie's head snapped back, but she did not let go of her hold on his throat.

"Gonna … wipe … the … floor … with … you … Deathbreath!" he gurgled noisily as the pressure on his neck increased.

"I don't think so, Fido," crowed Rosalie with a sharp-toothed smile. She leaned down, close enough to breathe in his face and if Jacob hadn't already been fighting for breath, he would have gagged. "Because, you see, at this particular moment in time, _I_ have the _upper hand _…"

The tone of her voice made his brows lift in wonder, then alarm, as she lifted an arm, curled one delicate white fist into a ball and prepared to drive it into his face.

"… a hand," she sneered (with great enjoyment), "which is about to send you all the way to the happy hunting ground! Say hello to your grandpa for me!"

Uh oh …

The thought of a premature (and post-mortem) family reunion with his (rather strict) Gramps was enough to galvanize Jacob into action. He shoved a brawny arm up between Rosalie's and twisted his body to the right just as her fist came crashing down. His quick action effectively broke her hold (before she broke his neck) and he rolled away from her (into what remained of the coffee table) as her fist came crashing down. It thudded into the carpeted floor, leaving a sizeable dent. But before Rosalie could so much as crouch into the next pounce, he was back on his feet holding one of the coffee table's splintered legs.

"Well, would you look at that," he rasped, rubbing gingerly at his throat with his free hand. "I got myself a ready-made stake right here. How about we find out if old Bram was onto something, huh? How about I ram it through your stone-cold heart - or the cavity that's supposed to hold it?"

Peter and Randall, who were at the doorway to the left of the sofa, and a few other leeches whose names he had forgotten, laughed in amusement. Rosalie rose from the carpet, a feral grin distorting her lovely features.

"Don't put your faith in fairy-tales, wolf-boy. You're more like to give yourself a splinter before you ever hurt me with that stick of wood."

As casually as he could (and trying to ignore the annoying slivers of wood that were firmly lodged in the palm of his hand - no point in tipping off Blondie that she had guessed correctly) Jacob tossed the leg aside (it narrowly missed Peter's head).

"Don't bother me much. I'm just as happy to rip your head off and use it as a bowling ball. Or maybe the world's ugliest football."

He grinned as the jab took a detour around her scorn and struck at her (colossal) vanity instead.

"With a face like that, you'd know all about ugly, wouldn't you?" she hissed, jerking a finger in the direction of his russet features.

Kate, who had just taken a seat on the arm of the sofa, fixed her amber gaze on Jacob. "Oh, I don't know; he's pretty cute, for a human."

Jacob favoured her with a rather miffed glare. _Pretty cute?_ What the hell did that mean? He was _beautiful._ Bella said so (the fact that Bella had been pretty concussed at that point was of no relevance at all - whatsoever).

"Oh, come on," said a new voice, and everyone looked up as Siobhan elbowed her way past Peter and Randall, eyes glowing crimson after her feed. "He's more than pretty cute; he's _tasty_."

Ugh. Just what he wanted: a plethora of bloodsucking babes fighting over him.

"In fact, if I was a few years younger …"

Siobhan trailed off and winked at him suggestively. Resisting the urge to (projectile) vomit, Jacob grinned nonchalantly, using the two vampires' seal of approval to rankle his nemesis further.

"Gee, thanks, ladies. You hear that? Your hypothermic buddies think I'm hot, Grossalie."

Emmett's booming laughter rang through the room (joined by several snorts from his fellow vampires).

"_What_ did you call me?" growled Rosalie, incensed at both Jacob's insult and the reaction it had caused. She took a dangerous step towards him.

Delighted, Jacob beamed. "Cool! You know your own name, Grossalie. Man, for a second there I thought you'd miss the subtlety of the insult, being a single-celled organism and all. A single _brain_-celled organism. That's another way of saying 'blonde …"

He never finished the sentence. Furious at his glib remarks, Rosalie launched herself again, but this time, Jacob was ready: he stepped neatly to the side, grabbed her outstretched arm and, with one powerful twist, sent her sailing out the already ruined living-room window.

"Auntie Rose!" cried Renesmee, dismayed that her beloved aunt had left the room (albeit involuntarily).

"S'okay, sweetie. She'll be back," said Emmett reassuringly as Jacob sped past them and soared out the window. The teenager landed lightly on the backyard and swept the surrounding area with his eyes, spotting his quarry several yards away. Rosalie had made a significant dent in the garage door and had just pulled herself up to finger her cream jacket.

"You ruined a perfectly good Armani original, dog," she snapped, rounding on him. "This jacket cost more than you'll ever make in your lifetime!"

"Sheesh, Barbie: at least I don't need overpriced threads to make myself look good. I exude sex appeal naturally," smirked Jacob, lounging casually against a rock. "Unlike you, of course. You gotta work at it."

He indicated her matching pants and carefully applied (though now slightly smudged) makeup with a careless wave of his hand.

"And your stupid jacket doesn't impress me in the slightest. People like you think a little Armani or Dior makes you better than everyone else: that a flashy foreign car or a big bank account sets you apart, makes you superior somehow. It doesn't. Your obsessive love of the material only reveals you for the superficial airhead that you are. I'll bet you've never had a genuine thought or feeling in your afterlife - or your real life, come to think of it. In fact, I'll bet you were a real pampered princess before you died; cruising through life in nothing but Chanel, living on champagne and oysters, attending only the best parties. Bet you spent your days sneering at all the good, honest folk who worked long, hard hours to make lots of cash for your Daddy, just so that he could put another silk blouse on your ungrateful back. You make me sick."

"Wow, I'm totally devastated to make _you_, of all people, feel sick," drawled Rosalie. "But your little rant has revealed you for the snob that you are."

Jacob was so surprised at the accusation that he threw back his head and laughed. "Snob?" he gasped between chuckles. "What a piece of work you are, Blondie. How do you figure that out?"

Rosalie took a few steps forward then came to a sudden halt; Jacob, wary of a trick, took a few seconds before reluctantly tracking her gaze. She was staring at the house behind him, where Carlisle had appeared and was now watching them carefully. Esme flanked him, her pale brow furrowed into a frown as she inspected her shattered window. Grimacing, Jacob settled his gaze on Rosalie once more.

"Well, I'm waiting, Bloodsucker Barbie."

Rosalie's top lip curled into a snarl, but she refrained from attack while her parents watched.

"You're a snob, hound, because you made a snap judgement about me. You have no idea about my personal history; you took one look at me and made a few wild, completely inaccurate, guesses. You think that simply because I like to have nice things, that I have no more depth than a puddle. But you're wrong. Sure, I like Armani. And yeah, I think I'm better than people; but only certain people. Presumptuous assholes like you, for instance, who judge a book by its cover without bothering to open it up and look inside."

"In case you missed it, I've been trying to 'open you up' for the past ten minutes - all the way from your neck to your belly," interjected Jacob, aware of Carlisle's eyes on his back (but refusing to look round in case he was guilted into ceasing hostilities by either his or Esme's gently reproving gazes).

"I'm talking about reading _people_, Muttley. It's not exactly a talent you possess. Maybe the fault lies with your youth - you're little more than a puppy, I suppose. Still, you show an alarming propensity for immaturity that can't be completely attributed to your age."

Riled by the (persistent) referral to his tender years, Jacob bristled. "Whoa, Einstein; you're really outdoing yourself with all those multiple syllables. '_Alarming propensity for immaturity that can't be completely attributed to your age'_? That brain cell's gotta be burning out right about now. But, just for your information, I got more maturity in my pinky toe than you'll ever have in your whole, reanimated corpse. And, you wanna know why?"

"Oh, let me guess: because you're ageing as we speak? I can't tell you what a comfort that is, wolf-boy. To know that you'll be busy decomposing while I'm busy cruising through the afterlife in a silk Chanel blouse is a real boon."

"Rosalie!" admonished a clearly affronted Esme.

"No, bimbo," continued Jacob, ignoring Esme's outburst, "it's because I don't need to flaunt my power or wealth to gain respect. All I have to do, is treat folk the way I'd like to be treated in return; with consideration and a smile. As for decomposition …"

He gave her a cheery grin.

"… well, you'll be pleased to know that as long as I hang around your happy family, I'll remain younger and hotter than you'll ever be - because as long as there's a vampire or two floating around Forks, or anywhere in a fifty-mile radius, _I'll never age_."

If Rosalie could have turned ashen, she would have. Deprived of that physiological reaction, Jacob contented himself with watching the smug expression slip from her face instead.

"What? You never knew that?" he asked, feigning surprise. "Gee, I thought Bella mighta told you. Never mind. Bet you're thrilled though, huh?"

A blatant overstatement. If looks alone could kill, even his normally impervious lupine abilities wouldn't have saved him from her scathing glower. Having too much fun to stop now, Jacob recklessly continued to push her buttons.

"And wherever Nessie is, there I'll be, too. So you're just gonna have to put up with me for another couple hundred years or so. Probably longer. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn't it … Grossalie?"

This devastating news, his arrogant smirk and the hated moniker were enough to tip the beautiful vampire over the edge. With a bloodcurdling screech, she launched herself at him once more, her eyes now black with murder. Jacob launched himself right back at her, drawing an astonished gasp from the watching crowd as he phased mid-leap (most of them having never witnessed his gift before).

"Jacob! Rosalie! Stop! Stop it now!" screamed Esme, her horrified plea falling on two sets of ears deaf to all but the sound of each other's growls and hisses. Werewolf and vampire collided with a _whump!_ and crashed to the ground, tumbling over and over until they crashed into the rocks by the stream. Rosalie broke free and sprang to her feet, Jacob a split-second later. They circled each other warily, sizing each other up, each looking to find a weakness they could exploit.

"The only way you'll be spending the next two centuries with me," spat Rosalie darkly, "is in the shape of a fur coat. So kiss your life goodbye, Fido, 'cos I'm about to skin you alive."

Unable to demonstrate his derision of the threat with a laugh, Jacob opted for a guttural snarl instead, snapping his teeth in her direction. She answered by charging him with her fist, but he easily dodged it and she smashed one of the rocks instead. It exploded into a shower of rocky fragments that rained onto her (now shabby) Armani jacket.

_Gotta do better than that, Blondie_, he thought, wishing he could vocalize his contempt of her.

_Jake? What's up? Are you … are you fighting a Cullen? Are you INSANE?_

Great. Seth. He should've known …

_Quit it, Jake!_ said a new voice, interrupting his thought.

_Back off, Sam. I'm not in your pack anymore. And this is between me and Grossalie,_ hissed Jacob, dodging another blow from the blonde's fist and snapping at her boot-clad heels. He spat out a chunk of leather, annoyed there was no granite-like flesh buried in it.

_Grossalie? Who the hell … Are you fighting Rosalie? You are! Dammit, Jake - a dozen evil bloodsuckers in that house and you pick on a Cullen!_

Jacob would have been surprised at the vehemence of Seth's outburst if he wasn't currently reeling from the blow Rosalie had landed on his snout. The force of the punch sent him flying backwards into the stream and it took him a full second to reorient himself.

_And the only one who can make a decent steak, at that! _added the younger wolf.

Rolling his eyes in disgust, Jacob bounded out of the water and shook himself off. Seth was a great kid, but sometimes …

_Life does not revolve around your stomach, Seth,_ he answered. _But if it makes you feel better, Bella's pretty good in the kitchen. She's been feeding Charlie ever since she came to Forks. I'm sure she'll be able to rustle you up something tasty._

_Yeah, a piece of you, if she finds out you killed her sister-in-law. No offense, but the thought of Jake tartare doesn't exactly appeal to me. Give Rosalie a break!_

_I'm trying to, Seth. And I might even get lucky if only you'd shut the hell up!_ barked Jacob, taking another chunk out of Rosalie's boot. A loud ripping sounded as he snagged her pant leg too and shore it clean off, leaving one shapely (if bloodless) leg to pull back, then launch itself into his left flank.

_Oof!_

The air rushed out of him as Jacob soared across the stream and thudded into a tree trunk. He slithered down the length of it, dazed and breathless, fully expecting the psychotic blonde to take advantage of his momentary incapacitation. But to his surprise (and relief) she didn't appear, which gave him enough time to catch his breath and wince at the pain in his flank. Luckily, his ribs still felt intact, but oh, boy, were they ever gonna hurt later on.

Feeling incredibly pissed off, he sprang up and raced back towards the stream. The reason for his temporary reprieve was immediately clear when he spotted Rosalie being restrained by Siobhan: the bigger vampire frowned in clear disapproval as she gestured towards Renesmee with a jerk of her head. The half-immortal child was bouncing on her grinning uncle's shoulders (Emmett looked suspiciously like he was placing odds on the outcome of the fight with Randall, Peter and Kate), trying desperately to spot her Uncle Jake. She giggled in delight when she saw him making his way towards the stream: the exact opposite reaction to Rosalie, who managed to wrestle herself free of Siobhan's grip when she caught sight of her prey once more.

Good. Leech or not, it would really suck if one of Esme's guests became collateral damage in this little tussle. Besides, Siobhan thought he was tasty (though how much pleasure he should take from that was a question for another time). Not that he wanted to _kill_ Rosalie (not in front of her family anyway; Carlisle and Esme might take exception to that). He just wanted to take the arrogant blitch down a peg or two.

_What's a blitch?_ Seth's curious (if alarmed) voice floated into his head, clearer than the last time the youth had spoken to him through their pack-link. Jacob huffed, knowing the boy was probably well on his way to save Rosalie from a fate worse than death.

_Stay where you are, Seth. I'm not gonna hurt her. Well, I might, but I won't burn her, so she'll still be able to fully reassemble herself. Unfortunately._

_Can't let you do that, Jake._ _The Cullens are our allies now. We've got bigger fish to fry than your gripe with Rosalie. Besides, Bella will kill you, you know she will._

_Hey, who's pack leader here anyway? _demanded Jacob angrily.

_You're the one who said you didn't want to be a leader. And you didn't answer my question: what's a blitch?_ queried Seth persistently.

_A blonde bitch!_ growled Jacob, wishing for a moment that Seth was not so damned fond of the Cullens. Not that it mattered: Seth would never reach him in time to stop the inevitable …

_Cool. So, that makes a brunette a 'britch', right? And a redhead's a 'ritch' - say, would that still apply if the redhead in question was dirt poor …_

_SHUT UP, Seth! _yelled Jacob through the link, knowing the Seth was trying to buy time by distracting him with inanities.

Determined not to listen to him any more, Jacob closed his mind to the younger wolf and concentrated on his target: Rosalie had reached the opposite side of the stream. Crouching, Jacob gave a mighty push of his hindquarters and launched himself over the stream at the same time she did. They collided in mid-air - but his greater size gave him the edge and they tumbled back towards the Cullens' side of the water. Vampires scattered in three different directions as they landed with an almighty _whump! _Esme's cry of horror was evident above all the other whoops and cheers and, for a moment, Jacob felt a little guilty at causing the gentle vampire distress. In fact, the sound of her cry was enough to make him hesitate even as he pinned the furious Rosalie beneath him, ready to take a chunk out of her throat.

But his moment of repentance was cut short by the writhing figure underneath.

"What's the matter, Muttley? Too chicken to finish the job?" she taunted, grabbing his tail between her legs and yanking back hard. The pain was excruciating.

"Rosalie, stop antagonizing him!" yelled Carlisle, but it was too late.

Livid at her insinuation (and his aching butt), Jacob bared his fangs and lowered his head in one swift move, aiming for the lily-white skin of her exposed throat.

And as the others present finally realized that perhaps the game had gone too far, a dark blur slammed into Jacob and sailed with him back across the river, pinning him to the very tree he had vacated not two minutes ago. Stunned, the werewolf shook the cobwebs from his head and tried to focus on the new arrival.

"You'd better have a good explanation for what I just saw, Jacob Black, because if you don't, I'll kill you myself!"

Jacob's vision finally cleared and his new assailant came into focus: it was Bella.

And, boy, did she ever look _mad_ …

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_Author's Note_: Oh, well. It looks like I'll have to do another chapter. But it'll be the final one, as I hadn't planned for this to be longer than two.

Hope you enjoyed,

Kara's Aunty ;)


	3. The last laugh

**Disclaimer: **The Twilight series belongs to Stephenie Meyer, etc, etc. I am making no profit from this rather pathetic attempt to dabble in her world.

***Please review, folks. It is the **_**only**_** reward I get***

**Note: **After much consideration, I have altered this chapter to (hopefully) reflect the personalities of one or two characters a little more faithfully.

**Getting To Know You**

**Chapter 3: The last laugh**

* * *

Jacob tried not to squirm under the heavy scowl Emmett was throwing his way as he sat on the Cullens' living-room sofa. He had never seen the usually (for a vampire) affable guy looking so hostile. True, the teenager had almost ripped his wife to pieces in front of him, but was that any reason to be pissed? It wasn't like she couldn't have reassembled herself.

Unfortunately.

Bella joined her brother-in-law in the staring match, her eyes never leaving him as she paced the room glaring daggers his way. Rosalie sat stiffly in an armchair by the window, avoiding everyone's gaze by looking out at the driveway below; her husband's comforting (restraining) hand rested heavily on her shoulder.

"It's okay, Rosalie. He'll get what's coming to him."

Emmett's gruff words earned him a snort from Jacob and a scathing glance from his wife.

"Oh, so _now_ you're concerned, huh?"

"C'mon, babe. How was I to know it would go so far? Besides, I thought we'd be scraping _him_ …" he pointed at an affronted Jacob, "off the floor, not y …"

"If you finish that sentence Emmett Cullen, I'll be scraping _you_ off the floor!"

Grinning, Jacob leaned back into the sofa. "Did you win the bet, big guy? You _were _placing bets, weren't you? Or did you bet against me? Man, no wonder you're mad. Must've lost a fortune."

"Shut up, Jake," snapped Bella as Carlisle held up a hand to warn his children to refrain from disembowelling the werewolf.

Apart from the Cullens and Jacob, the house was empty. Most of the other vampires had tactfully withdrawn at Carlisle's request and Kate had been temporarily entrusted with Renesmee's care. Otherwise, only Carlisle, Esme and Edward had been allowed to join in and witness the fireworks to come.

The room was filled with a heavy, tense expectation (as well as shattered glass from the back window. _And _the remnants of the coffee table).

Jacob's eyes flickered once more to Rosalie; her blond locks were in disarray, her precious Armani was caked in dirt, and her pants were history. Even her expensive boots were a mere ghost of their former glory. A small thrill of satisfaction shot through him before he remembered the tan pants he was wearing, loaned to him by Edward.

_Tan_ pants! Who the hell wore tan pants, anyway?

Not that he had been in a position to refuse them: his own clothes had fared even worse than Rosalie's, having exploded into threads as soon as he'd phased. What's more, when Bella and Edward arrived a few minutes ago (and she almost choked him to death), he'd been forced to phase back.

Unfortunately, he'd had no spare pants with him …

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he remembered Nessie's scream of shock, and Grossalie's derisive 'Put the worm away, Pocahontas. You're scaring the children', as Bella marched him past a dozen or more pairs of eyes and back into the house. Seth's '_Ew!_' hadn't helped much, either: the younger wolf, with Leah in tow, had arrived to the sight of his pack leader's butt disappearing through the shattered window. Only when reassured that Rosalie lived (and that Jacob would continue to do so) had he and his sister left to keep a watchful eye on the vampire-ridden forest surrounding the house.

_Worm!_ What a crock! Jake Jnr was a _snake_! A reticular python. A mighty anaconda!

And Pocahontas was a _girl!_

Which, he conceded, had probably been the point of the smug vampire's vicious jibe.

_Blitch!_

Feeling his gaze on her, Rosalie tore her amber orbs from the window and settled them on the teenager instead. His eyes narrowed suspiciously when she smirked.

What the hell was _she_ so happy about?

Very casually, the disheveled blonde raised an arm to pluck an errant leaf from her (ruined) jacket; her gaze levelled on his face, then flickered briefly to his crotch; travelled back _up_ to his face - and then she crooked her pinky finger at him.

_Worm, _she mouthed boldly.

His eyes flashed angrily at the obvious (and outrageous) slur. _Damn! _but he loathed that leech! She'd blatantly insulted his manhood right under the noses of everyone present - and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it!

Not without Bella ripping his head off first.

As if the thought of her had conjured his friend's voice …

"Well?" snapped Bella impatiently, drawing him from his frustrated musings. "Do you two have some sort of explanation for that little display?"

"Uh, what?" asked Jake, tearing his eyes from his nemesis. "Oh, _that._" He aimed for a disarming grin, but the picture of Rosalie's waggling pinky wouldn't leave him alone, and it came across as more of a grimace. "We were just … um … you know, just -"

Crap! What could he say without incriminating himself? If he said they were fighting (which they obviously _had_ been), he'd be crippled with arthritis before she ever let him near Nessie again.

"Just _what?_" hissed Bella, bending over him threateningly. A wave of her now-cloying breath hit him full in the face and he wrinkled his nose, lamenting the loss of the natural sweetness it once bore. From Bella to Smella in three short days. What a pity …

"Just … acquainting ourselves properly," he replied (trying not to breathe). "You know; getting to know each other."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Rosalie gagging.

"Getting to know each other? _Getting to know each other?_" Bella laughed, a silvery sound of pure disbelief. "What, are you dating?"

Now _Jacob_ gagged.

Ugh! Dating Grossalie? He'd sooner date Dracula. Which, come to think of it, might even be possible, given the company he was keeping these days.

His reaction, though silent, spoke volumes, and it elicited a snarl from his inquisitor. Realizing his mistake, Jacob held up his hands in supplication as she loomed over him warningly.

"C'mon, Bella. We were just having some fun!"

"Fun? _Fun?_"

Oh, boy. She was repeating herself. Again. _Not_ a good sign …

"Was it _fun_ when you trashed the house? Or when you tried to rip out Rosalie's throat? Was it _fun_ to make my daughter watch her aunt and uncle try to kill each other? Was that _fun?_"

Bella's face was almost level with his own now: her red eyes burning hot coals into his own brown orbs. Jacob was more than a little alarmed - and more than a little peeved.

Why the hell was she picking on him, anyway? He hadn't been the only one trying to rip someone's throat out here (just the only one she'd caught in the act). It was grossly unfair.

Or rather, _Grossalie_ unfair.

Carlisle obviously thought so, too. The family patriarch moved to put a placatory hand on her arm and drew her gently back from her predatory crouch.

"Bella, perhaps we should all take a seat and discuss this rationally," he suggested, ever the diplomat.

"What's to discuss?" she demanded hotly. "Ever since they met, they've done nothing but snipe at each other. And now they're fighting! _In front of my daughter!_ They scared Renesmee half to death!"

Jacob rolled his eyes. Puh-lease! Nessie had thought they were playing. In fact, if she'd had a few dollars tucked in her tiny fist at the time, she would've been wagering the outcome of the fight along with Emmett, Peter and Kate!

An unexpected voice seconded his thoughts.

"Bella, Renesmee wasn't exactly _scared_," supplied Edward, studiously avoiding the werewolf's eyes.

Jacob bristled. If Deadward had been reading his thoughts again ...

"Well, at least not until _you_ marched him past her wearing nothing but his birthday suit," added the bronze-haired vampire with a suspicious glint in his amber eyes.

Bella _and_ Jacob spluttered in unison; and the teenager nearly leapt out his seat to kill when Rosalie added:

"A sight that would frighten the life out of any grown woman, let alone a three-month-old girl."

"Rosalie, if you can't be polite, be quiet," warned Esme.

"I'm only telling truth," muttered Blondie, before a quelling look from her mother silenced her. Esme turned her attention to Jacob (who was seething on the couch).

"Don't pay her any attention, sweetie. You have a perfectly cute little figure."

Aagh! Could this day get any worse? Esme's remark was akin to having a maiden aunt tell him he was moderately attractive, then send him off with a consolatory pat on the head and a cookie. He watched her smiling at him comfortingly, and he was desperate to point out that _girls_ had figures. Guys had_ bodies_ (and his was _not_ 'cute'. It was buff! Rock hard. As smokin' hot as Sioux Peace Pipe). But he didn't have the heart to correct her. She _had _meant well.

So he surrendered to the mortification that consumed him as a now-mellowing Emmett's booming laughter split the room, accompanied by the rather more refined chuckles of Carlisle and Edward. Rosalie snickered in delight (making him want to smack her - this was all _her_ fault). Even Bella, as mad as she was, had to fight to hide her grin.

Yeah, yeah. Har-dee-har. Get over yourselves.

"Don't you have some kinda point to make, Bella?" he asked, unusually keen to resume his ticking-off (which would effectively distract everyone else from laughing at his 'cute figure').

It worked. The smile slid right off her face. She straightened her shoulders and glared at him (again).

"Yes, Jake. I _do _have a point. I'm sick of watching you and Rosalie fight all the time. It's bad for Renesmee."

That was unfair. They didn't fight all the time (they _bickered_ all the time). Today had been the first time they had actually come to blows (and if the livid brunette hadn't shown up when she did, it would've been the _last_ time they came to blows. For Womb-raider, at least. Which would have solved the problem nicely, in his opinion).

"I told you already Bella; we were just -"

She cut him off with a snort. "Oh yeah, that's right: you were _getting to know _each other." Her brown head swivelled to the armchair. "Is that right, Rosalie? Were you 'getting to know' Jake?"

"I'm not sure I like your tone, Bella," said Rosalie coldly. "You're not speaking to one of your high-school flunkies, you know." She eyed her sister-in-law with all the imperiousness of the Queen of England, and it gave the usually submissive Bella pause.

But only for a second.

"When it comes to the welfare of my daughter, Rosalie, I'll talk to any_one _any _way _I like - something you would understand if _you_ were a mother."

Jacob could see Carlisle and Esme grimacing from the corner of his eye. Emmett pushed his wife further back into her chair to prevent her from launching herself at Bella, who had stopped her pacing to confront the angry blonde.

_Ouch. That had to hurt._

"But as soon as we clear up this little mess," said the brunette, in a voice dripping with false sweetness, "we can revert roles and I'll let you be your usual alpha self again. Is that okay with you?"

Clearly ticked off at being … so clearly ticked off … in front of her family, and by a girl she had never really liked, Rosalie had to work to suppress a growl. Amazingly, for once she bit her tongue and did as she was told (which made Jacob snicker into his arm).

"So," resumed Bella, "were you and Jake becoming bosom buddies, or not?"

In a blindingly fast change of tactics, Rosalie's lower lip suddenly trembled, and Jacob's heart fell.

Great. Just great. She was gonna play the innocent victim in all this. And with her (disheveled) locks and ruined rags, she just might pull it off, too. Meaning _she_ would continue to monopolize Renesmee, while _he_ was doomed to the doghouse. His chances of ever seeing Nessie again were now about as great as his desire to replace Hobo Barbie's shabby Armani jacket.

Zero.

"The thing is, Bella," she began tremulously, gearing herself up for an Oscar-worthy performance (Jacob rolled his eyes), "after you left, we got to talking -"

Not talking. _Shouting_.

"- and reached a truce, of sorts -"

Yeah. Right before she attacked him. Right before _she_ attacked _him! He_ was the victim here, not her!

"- temporary, of course -"

Of course. Blitch.

"- and then we started messing around, you know -?"

Er, no. What?

Rosalie brushed a lock of straggly hair from her shoulder, her eyes casually sweeping her family. They lingered briefly on Edward before she faced Bella again.

"Look, Bella, everybody here knows what we're up against: the Volturi. If we can't convince them that Renesmee is not an immortal child, then things could go downhill pretty fast."

Duh. It didn't take a genius to work that out. Which was just as well - Blondie only had one brain cell.

"Could you get to the point, Rosalie. I'm aging, here," quipped the newest Mrs Cullen.

"Not any more, love," corrected Edward with a dreamy smile (Jacob fought the overpowering urge to vomit).

"Uh, sure. I keep forgetting. Well, Rosalie, in that case, I'm rapidly losing my patience. So speed up with the explanation."

Blondie nodded meekly. "If it comes to a fight to save Renesmee, we're all going to have to pitch in. But the Volturi's forces … well, we all know they're going to be greater than anything we can amass."

"So?" demanded Emmett. A feral grin broke out on his face. "We'll still kick their collective butts! Or die trying!" There was unmistakable enthusiasm in his voice, and he emphasized his commitment by flexing a brawny arm. His wife rolled her eyes at him.

"Of course we'll _try_, Emmy; but wouldn't it be great if we knew our chances of surviving the confrontation were a little better? If it comes to battle, and we _can_ take care of them once and for all, we wouldn't have to keep watching our backs. Renesmee would be safe. Forever."

'Emmy' grunted in embarrassment. "Wish you wouldn't call me that in company, babe."

"As much as I abhor the thought of violence, Rosalie makes a fair point … Emmy," said Carlisle, who now sat on the arm of Jacob's sofa. The stately vampire ignored his son's scowl. "But let's hope we can avoid that particular scenario. We have a significant amount of witnesses who are willing testify to Renesmee's growth spurts. The Volturi can't ignore them all. I am certain they will act judiciously, if we state our case in a rational manner."

"And if they don't?" questioned Edward. "You know they feel threatened by the size of our family. We've already evaded their 'justice' twice. They won't let us go so easily a third time. Renesmee's existence is a gift to them: it's the excuse they've been waiting for to disband or even destroy us. And when we turn up with a significant force of our own, they'll take that as a declaration of open war."

A pall of trepidation fell over the assembled vampires and werewolf. Jake shifted in his seat, acutely aware that everyone feared for not only Nessie's safety, but the continued existence of their tightly-knit family. The stakes were higher than they had ever been for the Cullens.

Suddenly his stupid fight with Rosalie seemed so … petty.

Man, but he was a jackass!

Shame flooded him in a wave as his eyes settled on his nemesis, and, feeling his studious gaze, she met it. As the uneasy silence pressed down on the small company, a silent understanding seemed to pass between werewolf and vampire.

_Okay, Psycho, _thought the teenager, _let's put our differences aside for the moment._

He'd wait until _after _the Volturi had been dispensed with to kick her butt.

Although she couldn't hear him, agreement was clear on her face. Rosalie nodded once, before Bella broke the silence.

"What exactly does this have to do with your little catfight with Jake?"

The blonde's lip curled slightly at her tone, but she mastered herself before answering.

"There was some speculation among our guests as to how reliable our … furry friends … would be in a fight to the death, given that most of them are children."

If she alluded to his youth just one more time …

Jacob clenched his fists, willing himself to think peaceful thoughts. But it was difficult.

"So," continued Rosalie, "by mutual consent, Jacob and I decided to demonstrate the pack's effectiveness."

Wow. They had?

Oh, yeah; of _course _they had.

_And the Oscar goes to …_

Despite himself, Jacob was impressed. Grossalie was thinking on her feet. Holy crap! Who would've thought it possible?

But would their interrogator buy it?

He chanced a quick glimpse at Bella's face; her jaw was slack with disbelief.

"Are you serious? You two were arguing before Edward and I left to hunt. Am I supposed to believe you had a mutual epiphany only a few seconds later? What, did you kiss and make up? Decide to work together for the greater good?"

Er, no. Only a fool (or Emmy) would kiss Grossalie. But the 'greater good' part sure sounded like it might work …

"It's not _so_ hard to believe," said Jacob, deciding it was in everyone's best interests if he showed Rosalie some support (however unnatural it felt to side with the leech), "We're a team, aren't we? It's us against the world. Or against the _Volturi_, at least."

Bella studied him closely. "And that explains the coffee table, does it?" she drawled sarcastically.

"I mighta tripped avoiding a tackle."

"And the window?"

Rosalie beamed, and he knew she felt safe in the knowledge that he was playing along (and that the mind-reading Edward wouldn't expose his sister's deception). "We decided to take the fight outside."

Yeah, violently.

"What, you couldn't have used the door?"

"We were in the middle of a complicated tackle. The window was easier. It's not like we have any neighbors to disturb with the noise, and glass is easily replaced," retorted Rosalie smoothly.

Damn, but she lied like a pro! Not that he was surprised: hadn't she called his python a worm?

He caught Edward smothering a grin.

"And I'm supposed to believe that Jake almost ripping your throat out was for the greater good too, right?" scoffed Bella.

"We mighta got a little carried away," interjected Jacob with a sheepish grin. "It's hard for a wolf to fight his instincts, Bella. You know that."

Her red orbs swung back to him. "Very neat and tidy, Jake. But you're forgetting one thing: Seth. He thought you were gonna kill her, too. And he must have good reason to, if you were both in your wolf forms. Or did you forget about the pack link?"

Forget about it? If only! He could clearly recall the dumb cub berating him about his beloved Rosalie. _And_ bemoaning the potential loss of her damn steaks. Typical Seth. Always thinking with his stomach.

"Seth was worried our little demonstration might actually end up with someone being seriously injured -"

Specifically, Blondie.

"- Not me, of course. I can take care of myself. But Rosalie … well, you know how easy Seth is to please. He likes her -"

For some mysterious reason.

"- and the kid couldn't stomach the thought of her getting hurt. He overreacted. As a matter of fact, Gro … er, Rosalie floored me first. I had only just got the upper hand when you arrived and got the wrong idea. My neck still hurts, by the way."

As much as he loathed the thought of making Blitch Barbie look good, he knew it was required to convince his friend not to punish him by refusing access to Nessie.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait a minute: you're _admitting_ that Rosalie beat you in a fight?"

He scowled. "I wouldn't go _that_ far. Besides, it was only a temporary victory. I cut her a little slack at first because I didn't want to make her look bad in front of all her bloodsucking buddies."

Jacob threw the Cullens a look of apology. "I don't think _you're_ bloodsuckers."

Carlisle cocked an amused eyebrow.

Embarrassed, Jacob recanted his words (sort of).

"Well, technically, I suppose you are. But _good_ bloodsuckers. You prey on animals. Humans do that, too, so you're not that much different from us. Just prettier. And immortal. Besides, you don't _eat_ your prey, which we _do_. And let's face it: 'carnivore' sounds infinitely worse than … um -"

Crap! What was the technical word for someone who sucked blood?

"- 'slurpivore'. So I suppose you could say that you're _more_ humane than us. I mean, if I_ was_ gonna die_, _and had to choose between ending up like a Big Mac or a milkshake, I know which one I'd go for, and it wouldn't be the patty. There's being a beefcake, and being a beef _cake_, you know?"

He shuddered theatrically, and a rather shocked silence descended as everyone digested his impromptu declaration. Jacob squirmed self-consciously.

_Big Mac or milkshake? _What an ass! That dumb ramble was Seth-worthy!

Unsurprisingly, it was Carlisle who broke the awkward spell - but, surprisingly, with laughter. And when he started, no one else could hold back. Soon, the air was filled with Emmett's hearty booms, feminine chuckles and the (rather sappy) cultured chortles of Edward.

Relieved at not having caused further offence, Jacob relaxed - until Emmett, still guffawing madly, strolled over to the sofa and raised an arm. The teenager tensed.

What? He was gonna smack him _now_? In front of everyone? And after the effort he (and Grossalie) had made to convince Bella of their mutual innocence?

Luckily for him, the massive vampire did not smack him. The arm came down in an approving slap on the shoulder instead (which still hurt - a _lot_).

"Nice one, Jacob," said Emmett, as the teenager rubbed his aching shoulder. "You're a good kid." He bent down to ruffle Jacob's hair, and took the opportunity to whisper; "But I'll still rip your heart out of your chest and stick it on pike if you hurt my wife again."

He pulled back with a jocular grin and returned to his spouse, leaving Jacob with no doubt that he meant every word of his charming threat.

Esme, having no desire to yank his heart out of his chest, beamed at the teenager in approval. "That was very sweet of you, Jacob. Thank you."

"Uh, sure. No problem," he replied gruffly, relieved that Emmett hadn't carried out his threat. He kinda liked the big guy; it would've been a pity to have had to kill him, albeit in self defence. "So you see Bella, nobody was ever gonna get hurt. We were just giving the rest of the team an idea of the pack's effectiveness in battle."

Bella twisted her head to look at Rosalie, who nodded in confirmation.

"Like he says, Bella. One for the team. And you'll be happy to know that our guests were pretty impressed with our little display. Though I have to dispute Jacob's claim of cutting me some slack. I floored him fair and square."

Brunette locks swished becomingly as Bella turned her head to look to Edward, who nodded once. Jacob sagged in relief. It appeared that he was reluctant to rat them out. Perhaps he was satisfied that his and Rosalie's efforts to work together (albeit to deceive his wife) were sufficient enough to ensure that they would both be on their best behaviour from then on?

Whatever the reason, Bella accepted it with a sigh.

"Okay. I'll buy it - for the moment. But if either of you so much as snarl at each other again, Renesmee's off limits. Forever. There's too much at stake here to tolerate in-fighting."

"Sure thing, Bella," said Rosalie pointedly, assuming the matter was settled, and clearly keen to resume her 'alpha' role once more. Her tone held its usual authority once again as she addressed the young werewolf. "We understand, don't we Jacob? No in-fighting. Team spirit. Fair and square. Got it."

Jacob seethed quietly.

Fair and square? That was the second time the psychotic blonde had said that. And, like the first time, it was complete bull. She wouldn't waste a single opportunity to rankle him - as long as there were no witnesses (and especially not Bella). Fair and square, his ass!

Which reminded him; he still had to repay her for that crack about his worm. Er, snake.

"Talking of team spirit; you haven't forgotten our little wager, have you?" he piped up suddenly, knowing Grossalie was not going to be happy about what was coming next (though he _would_ be). Especially since she couldn't attack him without ruining all their hard work to soften Bella. One good turn deserved another, didn't it?

"What wager would that be?" she asked politely (through clenched teeth).

"Rosie, Rosie, Rosie," he tutted. "The one you made before we began our little demo. I distinctly remember you saying that you would 'forgo Armani and wear Walmart for a week' if I managed to get the upper hand over you. Which, as everyone here will testify to, I clearly did."

It was an outrageous lie, and they both knew it. But she had played her part in their risky charade to placate Bella far too well, and if she went all Princess on him now, all their hard work could still backfire on them.

And not only on the two of them: Edward clearly knew they were stretching the truth (lying), but he chose not to divulge that information to Bella, which Jacob could only assume was some noble gesture to keep the peace. Carlisle and Esme must also have heard the pair of them arguing before their fight began. But it seemed that they, too, were keen to accept the inexplicable truce that had sprung up between the two; so they definitely wouldn't say anything. As for Emmett …

Jacob grinned. The big guy was guffawing in amusement (probably at the thought of his wife in a Walmart dress).

In short, she had no choice - not if she wanted to spare her family from a newborn vampire's wrath.

Rosalie's jaw dropped. "Walmart?" she gasped in disgust. "Not in a million years, Teenwolf. As if I'd _ever_ shop at Walmart!"

"And what exactly is wrong with Walmart, Rosalie?" enquired Bella icily.

"It's a _department_ store, Bella!" snapped Rosalie with equal warmth. "Only losers shop there! Or people on welfare!"

Smelling blood, Bella gnashed her teeth. "My _mom_ is not a loser!" she barked angrily.

Satisfaction shot through Jacob's veins as her comment stopped Rosalie short. The blonde's deadly jaw sagged for an instant as she realized her error: it seemed that Killer Barbie was gonna have to can the attitude a little while longer and do some serious sucking up instead.

_Sucking up!_ Har-de-har-har-har!

"She got a real nice pair of jeans there five summers ago," continued Bella, now slowly advancing on Rosalie. "Only forty bucks. And she makes them look like a _million_. She still has them. Gotta be careful with the cash when you're a one-parent family. So, are you really calling my mom - or any other people on welfare - losers, Rosalie?"

"No. Of course not," began Rosalie, barely managing to sound apologetic, but Bella cut her off with a wave of her hand.

"For your information, that vast majority of Americans shop in department stores. There's nothing wrong with that. We can't all afford exclusive boutiques. Something you should be grateful for - your expensive wardrobe would lose its appeal pretty quickly if you passed five other women walking down the street wearing the same Manolo Blahniks as you."

Yay! _Go Bella. Go Bella. Go Bella!_ Jacob was buzzing: Little Miss Materialism had finally been outted!

"Bella, I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing for me to say." Rosalie tried for another (awkward) apology. "I'm sure there's nothing with Walmart."

"You're about to be even surer, Rosalie," hissed Bella darkly, "because you and I are going to take a trip to Port Angeles. There's a Walmart open late on West 2nd Street; we can buy you a week's worth of new clothes there. You okay with that, Jake?"

Okay with it? He was _ecstatic_. Walmart Barbie! Life didn't get any better than that.

"I'm just great with that," he answered, beaming at her in deepest satisfaction. "And if you could pick up a pair of pants for me while you're there, that would be great, too."

As long as they weren't tan.

"Not a problem. Let's go, Rosalie."

"What - _now?_" shrieked the leech, her beautiful face twisted in horror. She looked to her husband for support, but he only grinned at her (rather stupidly). "I can't go now. At least let me change out of these rags."

There was a whoosh of air as Bella sped upstairs and returned seconds later with a sensible black three-quarter length coat. One of her own, Jacob suspected. Bella never had been one for overly fussy clothes - one of the things he'd always liked about her. Rosalie almost wept when her sister-in-law handed it to her.

"Yeah, we're leaving _now_. And you may as well forget about clothes until we get there. No point in changing twice."

It was a very unhappy Grossalie who accepted the coat and slipped into it (with Emmett's help. Something that ticked her off big time, if the glare she gave him was any indication). She pulled it snug across her ripped blouse and tied the belt as tightly as she could. But it barely passed her knees, leaving the flesh of her ivory left leg exposed to the sunlight. To remedy that, Bella produced a pair of flat, knee-length brown boots. Rosalie accepted them without a word, quickly shedding her ruined ones and slipping on the replacements. When she finished, she straightened, tucked her loose hair behind her ears, and glared daggers at Jacob (who winked at her).

She was, without a doubt, the most miserable leech he'd ever seen.

"You look great, babe," said Emmett, trying to reassure her. "You'd look great in anything. Even sackcloth. Or a garbage bag."

Or polyester. Which was a good thing too, considering where she was about to go for her latest shopping spree. Heck, if she was lucky, she might be able to kit herself out for a whole year and _still_ get change from a hundred bucks …

Jacob snickered as each member of her family gave her words of encouragement (consolation) and, feeling hugely satisfied, he watched her turn on her heel and follow a very determined Bella from the house.

But not without giving the lissom leech his own words of encouragement. And as long as he didn't snarl at Grossalie (or worse) Bella wouldn't mind. After all, he'd only promised to work with her - not be her BFF.

With that in mind, he bypassed Edward (who frowned at him in warning) and strolled casually to the front door, pointedly ignoring the pensive looks of Carlisle and Esme. Spotting his quarry climbing into Bella's Mercedes, he lifted his hand and offered a cheery wave. "Have fun, Discount Barbie. Don't forget my pants!"

Rosalie's scream of frustration was lost in the roar of the engine as the Mercedes pulled out of the driveway and on towards glamour girl hell.

And Jacob Black's laughter followed her all the way there.

**THE END**

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_Author's Note_: All done folks! Apologies if the American vernacular/spelling isn't up to scratch.

Hope you enjoyed it, nonetheless!

Kara's Aunty :)


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